


Declaration

by GotTea



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTea/pseuds/GotTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace is only joking, but Boyd accepts the challenge... in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declaration

**Declaration**

* * *

It’s very, very early. So much so that there’s a faint, diffuse glow of opaque, pre-dawn light creeping into the unfamiliar room, slowly eroding away some of the dense shadows. Grace is heavy-eyed and sleepy, worn out by an incredibly late but thoroughly enjoyable evening with a small circle of close friends. An evening that somehow, though quite possibly predictably given the circumstances, stretched well into the night, fuelled by a combination of wine, the group’s unrestrained enthusiasm and happiness, and the pure, almost magical joy of the preceding day. Gradually though, the festivities dissolved, and for Grace – and her companion – turned instead, in the privacy of the room they are now sharing, into an altogether different type of celebration. The kind that is almost always absolutely expected – and highly traditional – following the events of the day before it.

The room around her is comfortable, intimate, and very quiet. There is no noise from the world beyond, creating, in her exhausted state, an illusion of being far removed from anything and everything but her immediate surroundings. It’s as intentional as it is welcomed, and as she edges closer to the precipice of slumber, she listens to the sound of slow, steady breathing, feels the slight rustle of heavy, expensive sheets against her skin, and breathes in the familiar, heady scent of her lover’s warm skin. The sights, sounds and scents she associates with the man with whom she is deeply in love surround her, caress her almost, and in that twilight moment caught between differing levels of consciousness, it’s the most sublime combination she could ever imagine.

Boyd is curled beside her, around her. His body warm and heavy, his heart-rate steady and even under her palm as she flexes very slightly, tucking herself just a little bit closer, loath to lose even the tiniest shred of contact with him. In response, his arms only tighten further, his hold on her increasing as he relaxes completely, sighing softly in deep, utter satisfaction.

Deliciously content, she’s drunk on memories of the day, and the blissful serenity left behind in the wake of an evocative blend of shared emotion and intense, heated passion. There’s a bare, enticingly muscular shoulder beneath her head, one Grace kisses gently, letting her lips linger against the warm, smooth skin just because she can before she settles down again, her eyes drifting slowly shut. She’s exhausted, yes, but she’s also happy. Happy, healthy, thoroughly sated, and curled in the arms of the man she’s just pledged to spend the rest of her life with.

“I love you,” she tells him, voice soft and heavy with the pull of encroaching slumber.

He shifts very slightly, skin rippling against hers for a moment before she feels him lazily nuzzling her hair. “Love you, too.”

The reply is automatic, the words something they have both become accustomed to. “Yeah?” she murmurs softly, a warm, affectionate smile playing across her lips. “Care to prove it?”

Boyd chuckles, the sound within his chest wonderfully pleasant beneath her ear. “I thought I’d already done that earlier, hmm?” His fingertips slide over her skin, tracing unhurriedly down the length of her arm to find her hand, to circle the delicate gold band he placed there only hours before.

“You did,” she agrees, fingers curling through his and holding on.

His free hand roams across her back; directionless and languid, he still manages to find the most sensitive spots, to make her shiver and sigh softly. “There you are then! I love you, and I’ve proved it.”

“Mmm…” she hums, her body now thoroughly limp and pliant in his arms. “Sure you don’t want to scream it out to the world, a declaration for all to know?” She’s only teasing and she knows he knows it, but he moves anyway, causing a brief, vague moan of protest from her as he slides further down the bed. Their faces now level, he stares at her, into her, his darker gaze almost fusing with her lighter blue one. The intensity of it almost overwhelms her – Grace can feel each and every one of the emotions playing across the glossy surface of those hypnotic, dark eyes, can feel them deep within her, body and soul, and she knows he can see them reflected back in her own eyes too. Happiness, sheer joy. Protectiveness, possessiveness, pride. Passion, desire. Love.

It’s their future, bound together now as one.

Soft lips seek hers, find their target with practiced ease. Arms hopelessly tangled around him, Grace sighs again at the sheer, exquisite pleasure of it all. It’s easy, so easy, to give in to the complete rush of sensory input that floods through every corner of her mind, distracting her so completely. There’s the taste of him, the intoxicating scent of him; the wild heat of his body wrapped around her own and the arrogant strength of lithe muscle as he holds her, his touch and the intense focus in his expression leaving no doubt in her mind that he is, in that moment, as profoundly lost in her as she is in him. The weight of him pressing down on her is an instant reminder, ignites a spark of covetous, surging need that flares quickly into something more, spreading like wildfire as it overwhelms her, throwing all her thoughts and senses and desires in a single direction. It’s intense and all-consuming, but sadly it’s a moment that doesn’t last, for her exhaustion, and his, is just too strong to be ignored.

Those warm, questing lips trail along her jaw, meandering infinitely slowly until she feels his breath brushing across the shell of her ear. His voice is the merest hint of a whisper, his lips so close it feels as though his words are a part of her, have merged into her soul. “I love you.”

Grace turns her head, kisses him again. Gentle, yet lingering, she clings to those last few precious moments of their dying night. “That was hardly a shout,” she mumbles as they settle down again, exhaustion finally winning through. “And why’d you whisper it to me? What happened to the rest of the world?”

Boyd pulls her even closer, the arm draped across her chest curling snugly, securely around her. He’s so warm, and she’s so comfortable. Everything is rapidly fading away into the depths of deep, overpowering slumber. There are moments left, seconds, even, before both of them succumb. The words reach her just in time to register, to be understood. Treasured.

“You _are_ my world...”


End file.
